


The Lord, The Lady, and The Surprisingly Lucky Sam Vimes

by Twolittlesparrows



Series: The Lord, The Lady and The Surprisingly Lucky Sam Vimes [1]
Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Genderqueer Character, Genderqueer Sam Vimes, Idiots in Love, Lesbian Sex, Lesbians, Multi, Polyamory, Threesome - F/F/F, lesbian triad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:01:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22930672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twolittlesparrows/pseuds/Twolittlesparrows
Summary: Lesbian polyam AU‘I heard there was an incident at the docks,’ a soft voice spoke from the shadows, ‘I can always send someone to check on her.’
Relationships: Sybil Ramkin/Havelock Vetinari, Sybil Ramkin/Havelock Vetinari/Samuel Vimes, Vimes/Vetinari - Relationship
Series: The Lord, The Lady and The Surprisingly Lucky Sam Vimes [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1648069
Comments: 6
Kudos: 29





	1. Proposals and Pillows

Ramkin Manor was lit up like Hogswatch. Carriages rolled past, carrying the highest of society to the party. Footmen dashed around, opening doors and ferrying the upper crust of Ankh-Morepork into the bustling halls. Waiters waited, barmen poured drinks and a series of lovely young hostesses fluttered around, deftly circulating the guests. 

Sybil Ramkin watched from the second storey banister, fingers drumming on the polished wood. She was wearing a beautiful blue gown that shimmered in the lights, deceptively simple yet perfectly flattering. She placed a hand on her corseted hip, absent-mindedly fiddling with a gather of fabric. 

‘I heard there was an incident at the docks,’ a soft voice spoke from the shadows, ‘I can always send someone to check on her.’

‘No, Havelock. She’ll be fine. Late, but fine,’ Sybil turned as Havelock Vetinari, wine glass in hand, moved to stand next to her. She was more than a head taller than Lady Ramkin, her short black hair cut into a razor sharp bob. She was also in a suit, so black it seemed to eat any light that touched it, her thin frame accentuated by the waistcoat. Her cloak was draped over one shoulder, pined with a silver chain. 

‘You shouldn’t deny your guests the chance to see how beautiful you look, Lady Sybil,’ Vetinari said before sipping some wine. 

‘The show must go on, you’re right,’ Sybil sighed, taking a moment to ready herself. She was well used to hosting charity balls, so nerves were not a problem, but she couldn’t hide a nagging worry. 

Only a keen observer would have seen the swiftness with which Vetinari touched Sybil’s hand, interlocking two fingers before stepping away. Sybil watched her as she flowed down the stairs, Drumknott materialising by her side only for them both to be swallowed by the crowd. 

Sybil descended the stairs gracefully. The crowd parted for her, and they listened as she gave her speech. It was the kind of thing she could do in her sleep, and as the polite applause faded, and the conversations rose again she took up a glass of wine and began her social circulation. 

Just as a gaggle of waiters started bringing around more small trays of delicate foods there came a gasp from beside the fireplace. Sybil looked up in time to see a young man swirling his cloak off dramatically, and kneeling near Vetinari who leaned against the fireplace. The crowd parted to watch this dinner entertainment, 

‘My lady Patrician!’ The young man said, ‘It may be known that you have no suitors-’ 

‘It is?’ Havelock watched the man with a blank face, head ever so slightly tilted to one side. 

‘Uh...well...When I first met you,’ The man continued, bolstered by youth and entitlement, ‘At my father’s ball a mere month ago, I knew that I was to be the man for you!’ 

Vetinari simply watched him. The room was silent, hands were clasped to bosoms, moustaches quivered and everyone knew they were about to witness a public execution whether metaphorical or terribly, real. He was not going to survive. 

The man began to wilt under Vetinari’s calculating look. ‘I ... uh... I have come for your hand-!’ 

‘You get up off my carpet this instant!’ Sam Vimes, commander of the city watch snarled. Vimes strode in, with only a hint of a limp. She had tried to tidy herself up. She wore practical brown pants, boots to the knee and a loose shirt that hadn’t quite managed to be buttoned all the way up, some scars on her chest visible. Her arm was wrapped in a bandage, and there was mud in her hair. 

The man quivered, caught between the rock of Vetinari’s gaze, and the hard place known as Vimes. 

‘I....I won’t leave till I h-have my answer!’ he squeaked. 

In just a few elegant movements, Vetinari stepped over the poor fool, placed her empty wine glass on a passing tray, and walked off followed by her clerks like some kind of predatory mother duck. As if by silent instruction all the other guests began talking again, louder now than before, drowning the unfulfilled man in conversation. 

‘Sorry I’m late,’ Sam said as she kissed Sybil’s cheek, ‘Nasty business at the docks.’ 

Sybil gently touched the bandage with a sad smile, ‘You’re here now.’ 

The event wound down, and as the last carriages pulled away, Vimes sat in front of the fire place in the study. She slouched, short hair mussed up, one leg loosely crossed over the other. She’d discarded her boots, shirt sleeves rolled. Vimes stared into the fire, drumming her fingers on her thigh. 

A hand appeared from behind her, sliding down to just below her open shirt. She closed her eyes as Sybil kissed her neck, her wife’s perfume filling the air. Vimes nuzzled into her hair, sighing. 

‘Do you need me to call the doctor about that arm?’ Sybil asked. 

Vimes pulled Sybil onto her lap. ‘I had Igor take a look,’ she whispered, enjoying being enveloped by the vast softness that was her wife. ‘You’re fucking beautiful, Sybil.’ 

‘And you need a bath.’ 

Vimes snorted, making a face. With Sybil’s help, she stood with a groan. Vimes’ ankle had begun to swell, her worn out joints creaked. Arms linked, the women made their way upstairs. 

Sam sunk down into the hot water, scented bubbles up to her chin. She soaked the day from her bones, sinking into a warm soft doze. She slowly slid deeper into the water but because drowning in rose scented bubbles was not the way she wanted to go, Vimes eventually pulled herself out of her haze. Not being a robe person she pulled on a fresh shirt, this time not bothering with the buttons at all. 

Vimes stepped over Sybil’s discarded gown, wandering into the bedroom. She continued to dry her hair, towel around her shoulders as she also ignored her wife’s stays and petticoats lumped on the floor, a black cloak on top. Vimes rummaged through her drawers, pulling out a new pair of over-darned soaks, while on the bed behind her Sybil hummed softly, breaths catching. Vimes sat at the vanity pulling her socks on, looking up to watch as Vetinari ran an elegant hand over Sybil’s shaking thigh. Yawning, Sam stretched her back, making a sound of satisfaction at the click. 

Sam wandered as nonchalant as she was able over to the pair. She sat on the soft bedding, cupping Sybil’s cheek, leaning in to catch her in a kiss. Sybil gasped, one hand tugging hungrily in Sam’s wet hair, the other tangled in Vetinari’s soft bob. 

Sybil writhed happily under the care of the two women. When Vetinari finally came up for air, Sybil sat up, giggling, her arm around Sam’s shoulders. 

‘I’m a bit light headed after that,’ Sybil chuckled. Sam poured her a glass of water, kissing her shoulder adoringly. Vetinari stood beside the bed, fixing the cuffs of her shirt, ever poised, while Sybil caught her breath. 

‘Just wait, I can still have you,’ Sam purred, kissing Sybil’s neck. She growled softly as Sybil nudged her away and wriggled back amongst the pillows, hugging one to her large chest. ‘I think I’d rather watch. For now.’ 

There was a soft laugh from behind Sam, as Vetinari gently cupped both her cheeks, tipping Sam’s head back. Sam let her shirt be tossed aside. She wrapped her arm around Vetinari’s small waist, easily lifting her up onto the bed. 

Sam straddled the tyrant of the city, pinning her arms above her head. Vetinari gazed up at Vimes with that maddening calculating look, like she could see through Sam completely and know her every move. 

Except, judging from the brief little flicker in her eyes, she hadn’t expected Vimes to lean down and press soft kisses along her jaw. 

Havelock wrapped an arm around Sam’s shoulders, sighing softly before grabbing her by the hair, making Sam give an involuntary yelp. She sat up, forcing Sam back. Sybil giggled from her perch among the pillows, watching happily as Vetinari pressed her wife back on the bed. 

‘Don’t frown like that, commander,’ Vetinari smirked, ‘Even you have to give up sometime.’ 

Sam narrowed her eyes, fumbling with the obscene amount of tiny buttons that held the woman’s waistcoat on. Vetinari took her by her wrists and tossed her hands aside, undoing the buttons with an infuriating ease. She slipped the billowy black silk shirt off, letting it pool on the floor beside the bed, leaving her suit pants sitting high on her hips. 

Small scars lined Vetinari’s body, raised and softly pink against the rest of her incredibly pale skin. She didn’t bother with any kind of stays or lingerie. An immensely practical woman she hadn’t seen the point of wearing bras as she had barely anything there warranting their use, and stays or stockings and garters simply got in the way. It was a stance Vimes shared, there was no point wearing frippery under armour. However both women absolutely understood the point of lingerie when it was worn by Sybil. 

Sam wriggled under Vetinari, trying in vain to get the upper hand. Raising a brow, the Patrician leaned down, resting her folded arms on Vime’s chest. She pressed a kiss to her nose, ‘Why are you so difficult?’ 

‘Can’t let you think you’re winning!’ 

‘Sam.’ Sybil’s voice was warm but firm, with a hand on Sam’s shin, she gently stroked her skin, ‘Behave yourself.’ 

Sam melted. The tone of voice, and soft touch made her putty in her wife’s hand. She worshipped Sybil, utterly devoted, and that reverence cut through any antagonism she had with the woman currently straddling her. Vetinari looked back at Sybil, raising a brow. Sybil herself bit back a self satisfied smirk, then nodded waving a hand as if to say chop chop, get on with fucking my wife, thank you. 

Another one of the things that Vimes and Vetinari were in agreement on was that Sybil Ramkin was in charge. They may hold the city in their respective hands, and converse with kings but within these walls it was Sybil who ruled. 

Vetinari turned back as Sam placed rough calloused hands on her hips, hooking her thumbs in the belt loops of her trousers. She let herself be pulled flush against Sam’s body, shifting her weight so she could hook an arm around her leg. She kissed down her neck, along her chest, stopping briefly to suck and nibble on her nipple, enjoying the low growl she got in response. 

Sam’s hands ran up the Patrician’s body, feeling along her spine and shoulder blades, digging her fingernails in.

Vetinari shivered with a sly smile, ‘Keep your hands to yourself.’ 

Before Sam could reply, Sybil lay down beside her, taking her wrists and gently holding them above her. Vimes turned her head, and nuzzled her cheek into the bedding, hiding behind her arm as Vetinari concentrated her attention to between Vimes strong thighs. 

Back arching, Vimes bit back a groan. Sybil cooed softly, cupping Sam’s cheek. She ran her thumb over Vimes lips, humming happily when those lips parted and she sucked on her thumb. 

Sam writhed, toes curling and legs shaking. Sybil let her hold her hand, her grip tightening in reaction to something Vetinari had done. 

‘What are you doing down there?’ Sybil asked as innocently as if she were asking about the weather. 

‘Using two fingers right now, my lady, and if I keep running my thumb over here-’ Vimes gasped, gripping Sybil’s hand tighter, her other hand grabbing a handful of bedding. ‘I get quite a good response. Interesting. I think I’ll do it again. Hmm. And once more for good measure, I think-’ 

‘Fucking hell!’ Vimes growled, legs quivering. She bucked her hips, biting her lip as her body shook. Vetinari slipped her hand from her, pressing a quick kiss to her thigh before sitting up. She carefully unfolded herself, moving over to the basin to wash her hand. 

Sam’s chest rose and fell with hurried breaths. Free to use her hands again she ran one through her hair, the other still holding to Sybil’s. Vetinari returned, and pick up her shirt, slipping it on. 

Sybil looked up. ‘Oh. You’re not wanting to stay?’ 

‘If only I could, dear Sybil. Unfortunately I must be off. I suspect there shall be some reports on my desk waiting for me, from your currently panting wife.’ 

Sam threw a pillow at her. 

Vetinari redressed herself, looking polished and unrumpled as ever. Not a hair was out of place. She checked her pocket watch and sighed. ‘Good morning, Sybil. Sam.’ 

And with that the bedroom door clicked shut.


	2. Scolding and Fog

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for slightly disordered eating and angst.

Rain pattered on the windows of the Oblong Office. The morning copy of the Times was open to the crossword. Vetinari tapped her pen on the desk, the smallest frown on her brow. Drumknott placed a cup of coffee on her desk, followed by a thick file. 

‘Your...guest, has written this, as per your request.’ He said, taking a step back. 

Vetinari put down the newspaper, and flipped the file open to the first page, that read: 

“I, Monty Bons, formerly of Quirm, hopefully still of Ankh-Morepork, shall never randomly accost women going about their day ever again. I now understand the impropriety of such a public proposal. It was nothing more than an ill-considered power grab. I take it all back. I do not want to marry you. I will not besmirch my family name any further than I already have. I promise never to burden anyone else, especially women, with my unearned ego and entitlement. Please, please, please, please-” 

Vetinari flicked to the last page: 

“Please, please do not cut off my tonker!” 

Havelock chewed the inside of her cheek, ‘Do you have an opinion on this, Drumknott?’ 

‘I was impressed how well he could write upside down?’ 

‘Hmm. Very well. Have him cut down,’ She held up a hand. ‘But after your break this afternoon.’ 

With a nod, the clerk turned and returned to his other duties, leaving her alone. 

Havelock sipped at her coffee, rubbing her temples. Her head throbbed. Turning in her seat, she looked out the window, watching the dark grey soup of sky, light mottled and alien. The city below was blanketed in smog and mist, dampening all sounds and hiding the streets from view. Like her office was adrift in a sea of clouds. Vetinari felt dizzy. Lack of sleep, no doubt, she thought. She folded her arms on the desk, laying her head down for a moment. Just a moment, not at all for a nap...

Knuckles rapped on the desk. Vetinari stood, chair scooting backwards. She blinked back sleep, wild eyed and dazed, looking at Commander Vimes with an odd little smile. 

She swayed backwards. 

Vimes dashed around the desk. She caught the Patrician before her head hit the stone floor. 

‘Shit, what’s wrong with you?’ Sam got her knees under Vetinari, cradling her head. 

‘Nothing. Out of the ordinary, anyway,’ Havelock said softly. 

‘Gods damn it,’ Sam carefully picked her up, not even bothering to check if she could walk on her own. Even if she wanted to, Vetinari was in no position to argue as Vimes carried her to bed. Her hands tingled, and her head felt as if the swirling smog of the city was pressing against the inside of her skull. She didn’t feel connected to her own body, like she was floating, only holding on to the strong arms that held her, to the breath on her hair. The armoured chest her cheek was resting against. 

Sam placed her on the bare single bed. Vetinari rubbed her eyes with a floppy hand. 

‘When was the last time you ate something?’ Sam asked, unlacing the Patrician’s boots. 

‘I had a coffee earlier.’ 

‘Sybil tells me that coffee isn’t a food. When was your last meal?’ 

Vetinari bit her lip, waving a weak arm, ‘I don’t recall.’ 

Sam sighed. This was a conversation they’d had far to many times before, so she didn’t press it. But she did rummage in her bag and pulled out a bacon sandwich. 

‘Eat.’ 

‘Oh no, I couldn’t, they’re your favourite -’ 

Sam leaned in, hands on the wall either side of Vetinari’s head, trapping her, their faces barely inches apart. ‘Eat the damn sandwich. Get your head down. Actually rest like a normal person for once, alright?’ 

Vetinari stared into her intense, keen eyes, her own face blank. She was in no position to argue, even if she wanted to. She was, for the moment, defeated. 

‘Tell Drumknott to clear my day, if you would be so kind.’ 

Sam smirked, and headed to the door. 

‘Are you...Able to stay? With me?’ She couldn’t stop her voice from shaking. She sucked her teeth, pulling her knees up to her chest, rolling onto her side. Stupid thing to ask...

‘...Of course. I’ll talk to your weird little man. Stay put.’ 

Alone, Vetinari sat up. She carefully stood, removing the top layer of clothing. She had changed her clothes from the party, not that anyone probably could tell. It was all still black and flowing and potentially full of knives. Now in a singlet and her underwear which were basically little shorts, she curled back up in bed, her back pressed against the cold wall. 

‘Right! So weird little man is looking after things. I have a pot of tea and some more food.’ Like the proverbial bull in a shop full of very delicate things Sam Vimes returned, door hitting the wall with a thud. She set the trays down on the little table, dragging it over to the bed. 

Hand to her mouth, to hide her laughter Vetinari closed her eyes as she listened to the thunk of armour being removed, and the door being not quite slammed shut. Sam Vimes — Helpful? Yes. Restful? Never. 

Sam sat in a chair, feet up on the end of the bed, eating a muffin. Vetinari risked opening her eyes, letting them trail over the body she knew so well. Sam kept her work trousers on but had shed most layers off her top half, resting now in a singlet and binder. Vetinari was well versed in Vimes unique ideas around gender, and personally enjoyed the confusion when she had made her Duke. She was sure Vimes did too. Early on in their...entanglement, Sam had briefly referred to herself as Vetinari’s ‘boyfriend’. And while it hadn’t come up again, that was how Havelock continued to think of her. Her awkward, class hating, death defying, creaky jointed boyfriend – who had crumbs down her front. 

‘Come here,’ Havelock held out a hand, ignoring how it shook. 

Sam took her hand, brushing off the crumbs. She sat on the bed, leaning over the Patrician. Vetinari touched Sam’s cheek, tracing fingers over scars and wrinkles. She smiled softly as she ran a hand through her hair, noticing a few streaks of silver. 

‘You’re quite handsome,’ Havelock whispered. ‘I hope you’re aware.’ 

Sam rolled her eyes, ‘You don’t need to lie to me.’ 

‘Hey,’ Havelock held the back of Sam’s neck, pulling her closer, ‘I would not lie to you like that. Not about this. Not about...’ She faltered.

Sam closed her eyes, brows pulled together, ‘It’s fine.’ She sighed, ‘You had a big night.’ 

Vetinari frowned, but gently pulled Sam down to lay beside her. She draped her legs over her boyfriend’s, trying to give her more room on the small bed. They lay touching, Vetinari’s shoulder against Vimes’ chest. Sam leaned a little over the Patrician, head propped up on a hand. She lazily drew circles on Vetinari’s arm, making her skin tingle.

‘I may have read that file,’ Sam said after a moment. ‘While you were napping. The proposal guy.’ 

‘He thinks I’m gong to castrate him. Do I seem like the kind of person who’d spay a man like a cat?’ 

Sam snorted, ‘Yes? Yes, you do! You’re like this scary praying mantis who wears silky pyjamas everywhere.’ 

‘They’re not pyjamas!’ 

The women burst out laughing. Sam leaned down and softly kissed her cheek, ‘I’m surprised men haven’t got the message yet.’ 

‘The message?’ 

‘Of your preferences. You do exude a certain...distaste for men.’ 

‘Ah,’ Vetinari chuckled. ‘It is true, they’re not exactly my cup of tea. But I’m not adverse to marrying one, should there be a benefit to do so.’ 

The air grew cold. Sam stiffened, and pulled back, ‘Hang on, what?’ 

‘Is it so surprising? That I’d marry for a purpose? I give everything for the city, how would that sacrifice be any different? You risk your life everyday,’ She said. 

‘That’s different!’ 

‘How? How is one way of sacrificing ones life for the benefit of the people any different from the other? Less chances of getting stabbed? Less running through the streets?’ Vetinari felt her cheeks redden, heart pounding. ‘It wouldn’t change anything with our...arrangement, anyway. Besides, no one worth it has tried!’ 

‘Probably because you’ll castrate them!’ Sam yelled, standing up. ‘And you’re wrong, it would change everything!’ 

‘How? You’re already married, that hasn’t changed anything.’ 

‘Because I am not an adulterer! I will not be your bit on the side, hypothetical or not. Besides, I married for love, and not for any other reason, no matter what people say. I couldn’t give two shits about Sybil’s wealth.’ 

Vetinari drew herself up on the bed, eyes stern, ‘Not everyone has that chance, Sam.’ 

‘No, you’d need to actually be capable of loving-’ Sam stopped, sucking in a sharp breath. 

‘Get out.’ 

‘Havelock, I didn’t mean it -’ 

Vetinari stood, drawing herself up to her full height. Steadying herself with a hand on the wall, she narrowed her eyes, ‘You need to leave.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like my work, please consider giving me a follow on Tumblr at [Neon-Goblin-Art](https://neon-goblin-art.tumblr.com) I post fanart and updates there :D Thanks!


	3. Smoke and Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for mentions of abuse, addiction and probable transphobia/homophobia

Sam cradled the rage boiling in her chest. Her feet carried her through the city. She blitzed through the watch houses, barking orders and sending officers scrambling. She puffed smoke like a dragon, burning through cigars while she worked at her desk. 

It was after sundown when she finally made it home. She had stamped down the worst of her anger, refusing to let it cross the threshold of her family home. Sam took her time getting changed. She stopped to look in the bathroom mirror. Dark bags were under her eyes, and her cheeks were hallow. She looked pale. Sad. Not at all ‘handsome’. There was grey in her hair that was getting too long and falling into her eyes. 

Sam opened the mirror cabinet and grabbed scissors. She hacked at her fringe, tipping the offending hair into the bin. She ruffled her hands through her hair to dislodge any stragglers. Then punched the wall. 

Tears stung her eyes and she slumped onto the floor. She shook. 

Idiot, Sam thought. To think you were anything other than a plaything, a secret distraction. A little bit of ‘rough’ for entertainment. You can’t let yourself get attached to someone like that. She’d known, at the beginning. The kind of mind that ran on so many levels was not one to let yourself be vulnerable with. Yet she had. And now where was she? Crying on the bathroom floor like a child. 

Sam couldn’t even pinpoint what it was that hurt her. Because it made sense. Of course Vetinari would marry a man if it benefited the city. Countless women had been bought and sold into such marriages since the beginning of time, at least it would be by Vetinari’s own choice. What makes this different? 

You love her, a treacherous voice whispered inside Vimes’ mind, that’s the difference. 

‘What’s going on?’ Sybil asked softly, jolting Sam out of herself.

She sprang to her feet, wiping her eyes on her sleeves, ‘Sorry, I’m so late. Again. Gods, I’m useless, huh?’ 

‘Don’t you dare,’ Sybil said, voice like steel. ‘Don’t you dare talk about yourself like that. I won’t hear it. Come, sit down. Talk to me.’ 

Sam let herself be steered to the bedroom. And with Sybil’s warm arm around her waist, she told her wife everything. Of Vetinari’s fainting spell, the closeness, the fight. And then, in a whisper, she said: ‘I think I love her.’ 

‘I know,’ Sybil rubbed Sam’s back. ‘I know you do. I can read you like a book Sam Vimes, you’re many things but subtle is not one of them.’ 

More tears fell and Sam flopped back on the bed, hands over her eyes. The bed wobbled as Sybil shifted, and straddled Sam, her skirts pooling around her. Sam sighed, arms flopping to her sides under the pleasant weight of Sybil. Grounded. Safe. She tangled her hands in the soft cotton of the petticoats. 

‘I’ve known Havelock for a very long time,’ Sybil said softly, hands on Sam’s ribs. ‘A lot longer than you. And while she’s very hard to read, I like to think I have an...understanding of her.’ 

Sam just nodded, the knot in her chest loosening as Sybil gently ran her hands over her ribs, moving her shirt out of the way so she could touch her skin. 

‘Havelock doesn’t make easy, or quick decisions,’ Sybil continued. ‘And she chose us. She chose me. And you. So I think it’s safe to say, that you’re both feeling something here that you need to talk about. Together. Because Havelock and I have already had our own conversation-’ 

‘You have?’ Sam blinked up at her. 

‘We’re old friends. And we talked about our...relationship, long before you and I, dear. We know where we stand together. Which, right now, I think, is right beside you. We’ve chosen you, my love.’ 

‘Didn’t take you both for fools,’ Sam chuckled sadly. 

‘Stop that. Do not disrespect my choice in loving you, Sam Vimes,’ Sybil’s voice shook. 

Sam cursed herself, reaching up to hold Sybil’s waist, ‘I’m sorry.’

Sybil took one of Sam’s hands in her own, kissing her wrist. She kissed down her arm, nibbling softly on the skin. Sam hummed, reaching under the petticoats and skirts to touch her wife’s soft thigh. 

She let out a breath, Sybil’s other hand running up over her chest under her shirt. 

‘Do you want to take this off?’ Sybil asked, gently tugging on Sam’s shirt. She got off Sam, letting her sit up to remove her shirt. Sam stood, hand on her wife’s hip. She moved behind Sybil, undoing her dress. The fabric rustled to the floor. Sam ran her hands over the corset, down her sides and over her hips. She untied the petticoat, easing the material off. Sybil stood with her hands at her chest, biting her lower lip. 

Sam kissed along the back of her shoulders, tugging on the corset lacing. Sybil started working on the busk fastenings once the corset had loosened. Sam watched in awe. 

Sybil was the sun and moon. Sam couldn’t believe how lucky she was. She used to be frightened, in the beginning, of the softness and kindness this amazing woman showed her. 

In dark moments she could still feel it. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. You don’t grow up on Cockbill street as a lanky ‘girl’, pretend to be a boy to join the watch. Later realise you weren’t so much pretending to be a boy as you were finding out who you were versus what everyone saw you as. Get your nose and ribs broken by other watchmen when they found you ‘out’, pour yourself into whisky so deep you couldn’t feel anything any more. Only to then fight a dragon and meet the most caring and beautiful woman you’d ever known, AND for her to ask YOU to marry HER! 

That shouldn’t happen to a broken old bastard like Vimes. 

But it had. 

Lady Sybil Ramkin had looked at this old copper, this strange broken creature, and with the same care she took with nursing an injured dragon, she had pulled Sam as far out of addiction as she could. And when she couldn’t pull her any further, she gave unfailing support and love, allowing Sam to do the rest. 

Sam owed Sybil her life. She knew, deep in her bones, that if they hadn’t meet when they did, Sam would not be on the Disc now. Not on purpose, of course, but one fight too many, one stray crossbow bolt she didn’t care hit her...

She was here though. Enveloped in warmth, eating three meals a day. She had a wife. She didn’t have to spend every night in the pouring rain if she didn’t want to. Sam Vimes had a real life, she had influence, and Vetinari had heaped titles and opportunities on her - 

Oh. 

She sighed. 

Sam took Sybil’s hand, and walked backwards, guiding her back to bed. She leaned against the frame, watching her wife settle among the pillows again. Chest tight, Sam shed her own layers, crawling under the bed covers with Sybil. They lay in silence, watching the flickering shadows from the candles on the bedside table. 

Sybil placed her hand over Sam’s heart, snuggling against her side. ‘I love you, Sam Vimes.’ 

Eyes scrunched shut, Sam interlocked their hands on her chest. Her hands still shook, and her knuckles were bruising. 

‘Breathe,’ Sybil whispered. ‘Like we talked about.’ 

Sam made a face, but breathed in for a count, paused, then released the air, feeling the tension start to shift. She did this for a few more rounds, while Sybil stroked her hair. The shaking eased. 

‘You’ve seen too much,’ Sybil whispered. ‘For one person. And you hold it all inside.’ 

‘I’m not good with words,’ Sam whispered. 

‘You are when it counts,’ Sybil cupped her cheek, turning Sam’s head so they were eye to eye. ‘Listen to me when I say: you will be fine. I’ve got everything under control.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like my work, please consider giving me a follow on Tumblr at [Neon-Goblin-Art](https://neon-goblin-art.tumblr.com) I post fanart and updates there :D Thanks!


	4. Rain and a Bath

It was bloody cold. Sam sat on the windowsill, one leg dangling in the garden. She smoked lazily, feeling the wind and rain whip her skin. There was a fire burning in the study, and once her cigar was finished she would welcome the heat, but right now the cold was what she wanted. 

With the wind in her ears she didn’t hear the study door open. She didn’t hear the click of a cane, of footsteps in a limping rhythm. Yet the hairs on the back of her neck prickled. Years as a night watchman had honed her senses. She was being watched. 

‘Sybil wrote you, didn’t she?’ Sam didn’t turn away from the window. 

‘One does not ignore a summoning from Lady Ramkin,’ Vetinari said softly. The space grew quiet. Sam finished her cigar, tossing the stub into the hedges outside. She pulled the window shut, focusing on the latch and not on the other woman, and certainly not on the heavy pounding in her chest. 

Vetinari had taken the armchair closest to the fire, long slender hands resting on the top of her cane. The cold played with her joints, Sam knew, and the old wound in her leg was the worst. Sam took a deep breath. She sat in the chair opposite, hands in her lap, leg jiggling.

Both women watched the other, their faces falling easily into old masks. Cold, blank stares they had used for years against one another, never budging, not even when Sam would creatively ‘obey’ orders. A good watchman could bend orders to suit.

‘I’m not good with my words,’ Sam started, foot tapping constantly. 

Vetinari said nothing. She just watched with those ice blue eyes and stupid perfect hair. It was blowing a gale, how was her hair so tidy? Sam’s hands were sweaty. She felt sweat trickling down her back. Her own hair stuck up at odd angles. 

She stood, and shook her hands as she started to pace in front of the fire, ‘Look, I shouldn’t have yelled. That wasn’t fair. I don’t mean to yell all the time!’ She paused, eyes closed, hands balled into fists. ‘You deserve more.’ 

Vetinari blinked, and the mask slipped for a split second. 

‘You do. You deserve more,’ Sam pushed on, taking up pacing again. ‘I get it! It makes sense! Pick an influential nob and hang your hat on it – him! On him.’ She ignored the heat rising up her neck, her ears flushing. ‘But you deserve something more than that! On a...personal level!’ 

‘Personal?’ Vetinari’s tone was even. ‘Personal isn’t the same -’ 

‘As important, yes, I know. Except like fuck it isn't! It can be both, things are allowed to be both!’ Sam panted, eyes wide. 

Wind howled outside. The rain grew thunderous, somewhere a branch crashed down, nearly drowning out Sam’s next words: ‘You could be both.’ 

Vetinari looked away, watching the fire. After a lifetime, she finally spoke, ‘What am I, to you?’ 

Sam sunk into the armchair, stomach dropping. She also stared into the fire, praying it would do the talking for her. She scratched at her arm, nails digging in her skin, ‘You’re...Important. And...personal. I think I might, somewhat, be in love with you.’ 

‘Somewhat?’ The Patrician turned back to face her, expression unreadable. ‘I need to be able to “hang my hat” on something more substantial that somewhat.’ 

Sam opened her mouth to speak. Then shut it again. Brows pulled together, she sat up straight, hands gripping the arms of the chair. ‘Do you want to hang your hat on me?’ She said finally, the smallest smirk on her lips. 

Vetinari didn’t even blink, one single finger tapping the top of her cane. She had been caught. Sam felt a tiny thrill at the thought. Then she remembered. A slow, devious smile spread over her face. She slid from the chair, onto one knee, eyes wild in the firelight. 

Havelock shook her head, ‘Don’t you dare-’ 

‘You said no one worthy enough had tried. Don’t I have enough titles?’ Sam grinned devilishly. ‘You gave them to me.’ 

‘You’re already married!’ 

The grin grew, ‘Yeah. I am. So you know I’m not after your power or influence. I’ve told you multiple times where you can stick it, actually. What am I to you, your lordship?’ 

Vetinari didn’t fidget like Vimes, but there was still a slight vibration to her. She wasn’t usually caught so easily, her words like wicked little webs that Sam was unravelling with broad strokes. 

‘You are...Important,’ She spoke in a low whisper Sam had to strain to hear. ‘And personal.’ 

‘Do you love me?’ 

Havelock stared at Sam. Her tapping finger had ceased, and for once she looked almost...small. Sam felt a pang in her heart, something unknotting. She ignored the complaints from her knee, scooting forward just a fraction. She reached out, taking Vetinari’s free hand. Cold, the woman always felt so cold, her long hands strangely soft for someone who had done such hard, bloody work. 

‘Vimes-’ 

‘Say it straight. I need to hear it, one way or the other.’ 

Vetinari shut her eyes. She ran an elegant hand through that perfect bob and sighed, ‘Yes – oh!’ 

Sam was on her in a flash. Hands holding her cheeks, she kissed her hard. The cane clattered to the floor. Vetinari made a small squeaking sound, hands on Vimes’ hips, pushing her away. Sam pulled back, ‘You alright?’ 

‘Your knee is right on my bad leg,’ Vetinari puffed. Sam swore, shifting so she sat on the arm of the chair, hands on either side of Vetinari’s head. The Patrician gazed up at her, the slightest blush on her cheeks. 

‘You think I’m personal...’ Sam crooned, eyes narrowed with a mean little smirk on her lips. Havelock rolled her eyes, placing a firm hand on Vimes’ sternum, ‘I also think you’re a damn fool.’ 

Sam only shrugged, and with a light finger traced down the side of Vetinari’s face. Havelock leaned her head ever so slightly into the touch, the fire light dancing in her pale eyes.  
‘I don’t consider you to be...something on the side, as you so crudely put it,’ She whispered. ‘I’m not one for flippancy, in any regards, and certainly not in matters like this. The risks I’ve taken to make sure all of this – Sybil, and you – is safe, and secret is beyond measure. Not because I’m ashamed,’ She quickly added. ‘But because of the danger it would put you both in.’ 

‘They’d have to go through me -’ Sam growled, but Vetinari stood suddenly, dislodging Sam from her perch. She fell back, instinct making her roll into a crouch. The Patrician towered above her, shadows dancing as the fire sparked. 

‘You can’t take everything head on. Do you think those who would try are the ones you need to worry about? Not every danger is one you can beat with your blade. I can have you fight for the city, and me by extension. But I can’t have you lose because you love me! You wont win every fight. Sam fucking Vimes will not always win!’ Vetinari raised a hand to her lips, eyes shutting. ‘Sybil would run me through if you died...’ 

Sam stood slowly, ‘No, she wouldn’t.’ 

‘But I’d wish she had!’ 

Silence once again fell between them. Sam stuck her hands deep in her pockets, shoulders hunched. She watched Havelock intently, the way her hands curled protectively, a knuckle raised to her mouth to bite. 

‘Hey...’ Sam put a hand on Vetinari’s forearm, ‘I’ll do the jobs that have to be done. Even the ones I don’t want to. I arrested you, didn’t I?’ She laughed softly, but Vetinari shook her head, ‘You can’t arrest everyone.’ 

'No. If we arrested everyone who had a bone to pick with you the entire city would be in the cells. Myself included,’ Sam squeezed her arm. ‘I’m not saying we’ll be fine. But if you took everything else away, and we were just us. Just Sam from Cockbill street and Havelock that weird lanky thing from the guild -’ Vetinari chuckled then, making a face, ‘- Then we could make a go of it, yeah?’ 

Vetinari’s bad leg shook, and with Sam’s help she sat back down in the armchair. This time she pulled Sam close, resting her chin on her shoulder. Havelock wrapped her arms around her waist, and Sam did her best to keep her weight off the woman. Her skin tingled at the contact, blood pumping. 

‘Hey, Havelock? Is this a yes?’ 

‘I love you.’ 

Sam nodded, ‘Yeah, but...is it a yes to the other thing?’ 

Vetinari sighed deeply, shaking her head, ‘You can’t marry two people.’ 

‘Are you sure?’

Havelock nipped at Sam’s neck, making her laugh, ‘I cant just make new rules for myself whenever I feel like it, you’d arrest me. Besides, my point still stands. It’d make you more of a target.’ 

‘What if it was just between us, then?’ Sam took her hand, interlocking their fingers. ‘I didn’t actually expect you to announce it to the world.’ 

One of those cold fingers trailed along Sam’s jaw, tracing along a scar, ‘Between us, then.’ She caught Sam’s chin on the tip of her knuckle, pushing her head back. She leaned in to press soft but insistent kisses down to her collar. Sam hummed, hands tightening in Vetinari’s cloak. She shivered when a hand snaked up her spine, ‘You’re always so cold.’ 

‘Then warm me up.’ 

Sam growled, standing and in one quick move she pulled Vetinari into her arms, holding her easily off the ground. Sam was not short, but Vetinari was tall. It was awkward, all elbows and knees and loose laughter. Vimes lowered them onto the thick rug in front of the fire and carefully undid the pin holding Vetinari’s cloak. This time Sam didn’t bother fumbling with buttons. Quick hands untucked the Patrician’s suit shirt, the fabric silky. She pushed the shirt up, a little rough, but judging from the squirming beneath her not unwelcome. 

She kissed a long her ribs, holding Vetinari still with the hand gripping the shirt, pressing down on her chest. Sam trailed her tongue along scars, then bit down on the woman’s hip. Hard. 

Havelock gasped, trying not to squirm with Sam’s teeth on her. 

‘Sam!’ She moaned, reaching down to grab Sam’s shirt collar. Vimes let herself be pulled back up, face to face. She kept one hand planted firmly on Vetinari’s stomach, fingers teasingly shifting under the trouser waistband. 

‘Don’t frown, my lord Patrician,’ Sam laughed. ‘You can’t always win.’ 

Vetinari pressed her forehead to Sam’s, eyes shut, ‘But I have too much to lose.’ 

‘Not with me...’ Sam whispered, hand slipping past the waistband. Her hand was soft as she touched her, picking a slow rhythm. Thighs pressed around her hand, and Havelock groaned, flushed from the neck down. Her hands clawed at Sam hungrily, back arched, soft breaths catching, and Sam drank it all in, watching the woman come undone beneath her.

Sam pressed her body against Vetinari’s keeping her in place while the woman moaned. Vetinari quivered, her eyes fluttering as she came down from her high, one thigh hooked over Sam’s hip. Vimes laughed softly, nipping at her earlobe, ‘You’re so beautiful like this.’ 

Vetinari covered her eyes with her hand, laughing weakly. She shifted uncomfortably, reaching down to rub her sore thigh. Vimes quickly got off her, tutting, ‘You need a soak.’ 

Together the women made it upstairs, though Vetinari refused to be carried. She did however, allow Vimes to draw her a hot bath. Sam sat on the bathroom floor, averting her gaze as Vetinari got undressed. It dawned on her that she hadn’t seen Vetinari fully naked before. She always had some layer, or cheeky knife, somewhere, and seeing her like that, in discomfort and bare, Sam realised just how fragile she could be. Yes she was an assassin who could kill you in twenty different ways before your first cup of tea in the morning, but she was still human, and could break as easily as anyone else. 

Sam joined her in the water, knees tucked to her chest. Vetinari stretched out in the large tub, the ends of her bob fanning out in the water. Her cheeks were red in patches, and she massaged her leg. Vimes reached over and helped, her strong hands working the knots from her slender thigh. 

‘Did you cut your hair?’ Vetinari whispered, head cocked to one side. Sam blushed, not making eye contact, ‘Ignore it.’ 

‘You did a really bad job.’ 

Sam pinched her. Vetinari gave a little jolt, chuckling. She relaxed back in the water, letting Sam’s hands work the ache from her body. Eventually she tapped her on the shoulder, pulling Sam in for a kiss, ‘Thank you. Now turn around.’ She pulled Sam back to lay against her. Holding her close, nuzzling into the crook of her neck. 

Eyes closed, Sam listened to the sound of their breathing and the storm crashing outside. She hummed softly when Havelock’s fingertips trailed over her stomach and hips. She took Sam’s hands in hers, placing them on the edges of the bath, ‘You know my rule.’ 

Sam kept her eyes closed, biting her lip, ‘Keep my hands to myself? 

‘Good,’ She purred, running her hands up her body, sending little ripples through the water. ‘I don’t want to see those hands move.’ 

Sam rolled her head back, turning to look at her from over her shoulder, ‘But didn’t I break that rule earlier-?’ She gasped as Vetinari’s hand found her throat, holding her still with the very firm promise of what was to come. Her other hand worked between Sam’s thighs, drawing out the softest whine from her. 

‘Yes,’ Vetinari growled. ‘You did.’ She squeezed her throat, sinking her teeth into her shoulder. Sam kicked a leg out, sending a wave of water over the edge of the tub – her hands staying in place. Havelock laughed, taking her hand from her throat and catching her nipple, pinching and rolling. Sam pushed back against her. 

True to her nature, Vimes snarled, fighting against Vetinari’s control over her. A losing battle. She bit back a moan, the Patrician’s cruel hands breaking down her defences. Her legs shook as Vetinari upped her pace, and Sam couldn’t stop a groan from escaping her. 

‘Fuck, I’m close,’ She moaned. Sam reached behind her, hand in Vetinari’s hair. 

Vetinari took her hand away. Sam gasped, growling low in her chest, head thrown back. She squeezed her thighs together, aching and flushed bright red. Vetinari drummed her fingers on the edge of the tub, raising a brow when Sam turned around to face her, ‘Y-you stopped!’ 

‘You broke the rule. Again,’ Havelock couldn’t hide the grin from her lips, getting her own pleasure from seeing Sam squirm. 

Sam bared her teeth, snarling in frustration. She wouldn’t beg, that’s what Vetinari wanted. She wanted to bend her around her mean little fingers, make her dance to her whims. The sex equivalent of dropping her into the scorpion pit. Well, Sam wasn’t going to give in! Vetinari could be as cruel as she wanted, whatever tricks she pulled, tortures that mind could concoct—Sam looked into those light blue eyes that wrinkled at the edges, always watching her. She huffed. Damn damn damn. The bitch had won. 

‘Come here,’ Havelock whispered. 

And Sam did as she was told. Trying not to splash any water, she knelt in front of the woman, just out of reach. Before Sam could react, Havelock moved, a vice like grip on the back of her neck, her other hand roughly returning to between her legs. A series of curses left Vimes, her head falling forward onto Vetinari’s shoulder. She gripped the sides of the tub. She moaned, sucking on Havelock’s neck. She bit down as she came, growling. 

‘You always end up seeing things my way,’ Vetinari teased. 

Sam let herself be pulled back down, curling against Havelock’s chest, ‘I hate you.’ 

Vetinari laughed, kissing the top of her head. It was now they noticed the water had cooled past what was comfortable. Together they got out and dried off. Vetinari leaned against Sam, holding her bicep when they walked to the bed, the water had loosened her muscles, but the cold was seeping in again and she rubbed her hip when she sat on the bed. 

Sam scooped her into her arms, tucking them under layers and layers of soft blankets. She held her tight, peppering the back of Havelock’s neck with kisses, making her shiver. Warm and spent, Vimes let herself drift off, holding her lover safe. 

It was an hour later when the bedroom door opened and Sybil Ramkin, donned in full dragon keeper attire and dripping wet from rain strode in. 

‘Hello,’ Havelock said weakly, muffled from the blankets. Sybil started, laughing softly, ‘Oh I didn’t see you there. Got yourselves sorted out then?’ 

Vetinari peeked up from under the blankets at Sybil, trapped in Sam’s arms. The other woman snored, tightening her grip when Vetinari tried to wriggle free. 

‘Ah yes, the Sam Vimes bear hug. I know it well. You’ll could be there all night, Havelock,’ Sybil laughed. She took off her dragon keepers clothing, stretching her arms up above her head, ‘I hate to do it because she rarely gets a full nights rest, but I need to wake her up. I have something to tell you both.’ 

Havelock stared wild eyed as Sam rolled over, further onto her, and Sybil disappeared from view replaced by blankets. She had, however, freed one arm and thus started smacking Sam in the head. Sybil snorted, and tickled down her wife’s exposed sides. 

The Duke growled awake, violently rolling onto her other side, hiding under a pillow. Vetinari sat up in an instant, taking the opportunity to breathe again. 

Sybil gave a tut, hands on her hips, ‘You come out from there, oh wife of mine. We need to talk. I want to have a baby.’


	5. Babies and Lilac (Epilogue)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue to Part one of The Lord, The Lady, and the Surprisingly Lucky Sam Vimes

She shouldn’t take as much pleasure in this as she was, but Sybil couldn’t help it. Havelock sitting with her at the kitchen table, fingers steepled, her eyes locked on a place on the wall, and the clattering as Sam once again dropped a tea cup was just too good. She smiled, listening to her wife swear under her breath. 

‘Run that by me again, please,’ Sam said, bringing over a tray. The tea had escaped the confines of the cups, half of it now sloshing in the tray. Sam sat on her left, eyes wide. Sybil cooed internally. Her wife felt everything very intensely and it often took a wee while for her brain to slot everything into the correct place – not because she was slow, in fact it was the opposite. Her mind had to hold every little piece of information up and examine it before filing it away. Being married to Vimes was a masterclass in the waiting game. 

‘I want to have a baby,’ Sybil smiled. ‘And I want Havelock to be the godparent.’ 

Vetinari kept very still, but there was a flicker of shock in her eyes. Sybil chuckled to herself, Oh this was fun.‘You’re my oldest and dearest friend, and I dare say you’d make a fine godparent.’ 

‘Thank you for that assessment, Sybil,’ Havelock said, each word carefully falling into place. ‘It would be an honour.’ 

Sam looked between the two women, then raised a hand. ‘Yes, hi, hello, um but how exactly are you going to get a baby? None of us are exactly endowed with the...uh...instrument required. I’m fairly certain that polished wood you keep in the bedside table doesn’t count.’ 

Havelock returned to staring at the wall, and Sybil made the choice to have not heard the last few parts of her wife’s sentence, ‘There are options. We could adopt. Or find a suitable donor-’ 

‘Donor? You can’t...how would...Donation, of...that? What?’ Sam blinked, looking around wildly. Sybil could almost see steam coming out her ears, as if her head was full of cogs trying madly to keep up. 

‘I have heard,’ Havelock said softly, ignoring Sam. ‘Of some studies in Uberwald, around fertility and genetics. There is also, of course, a registry of children in city care. I will have Drumknott begin compiling these for you.’ 

‘That would be good, thank you,’ Sybil sighed, turning back to her wife. Sam slumped in the chair, holding a dripping cup of tea in her hands. She took a sip, then looked at Sybil. 

‘I’m going to be a mother-’ 

‘Or father, you can pick whatever title you like,’ Sybil took the cup from her, taking both her hands in hers. A grin like a slow sunrise spread on Sam’s face, chest puffing up. 

‘I’m going to be a father,’ The sun couldn’t have shined brighter than Sam’s eyes at the thought. ‘I could teach them to walk! I’m great at that.’ 

There we go, Sybil thought. We got there. 

***

Sam was pacing. She had been given clear instructions that she was not to smoke during the meeting. It was too important. 

‘You’re going to wear a track in Havelock’s floor if you don’t sit down,’ Sybil sighed, her own nerves kept in place by generations of Ramkin stoicism. She had waited over six months and dealt with so many meetings that waiting another ten minutes was not an issue. 

The oblong office was toasty, and a small imp powered fan was set up on Havelock’s desk. It barely puffed the air around, but it filled the room with a sound other than Sam’s boots on the stone. Behind the closed office door came voices and Sam was suddenly by her side, holding her hand for dear life. Sybil ran her thumb over her knuckles. 

Drumknott came in first, pushing a small trolley with tea and cakes, a little flower in a vase. He nodded politely to the seated women before leaving again, the door shutting behind him. Sam tapped her foot. Sybil fiddled with the fabric on her skirt. 

The door opened once more, and in came a young plump nurse with a mewling bundle in her arms. Sybil’s heart skipped a beat. Multiple beats. An army of butterflies were released in her stomach. Sam stopped breathing. The nurse carefully handed Sybil the bundle, curtsying before stepping back. 

The baby was warm. And blinked up at Sybil with soft eyes. A low whistle came from Sam, her chin on Sybil’s shoulder. The baby was round and pink with huge cheeks and a fluff of red hair. 

‘Oh, hello,’ Sybil whispered, kissing the infant’s nose. The baby gurgled with laughter, reaching up to touch her face. 

Tears sprung forth. Sybil couldn’t stop them. Shocked by the force of her emotions she handed the child to Sam. 

‘You can leave us now, I think,’ Vetinari spoke softly from the doorway. The nurse bobbed, scurrying out. Havelock handed Sybil a fistful of hankies and leaned against her desk. 

‘Oh!’ Sybil laughed through her tears. ‘Goodness me, being a silly old thing.’ 

Havelock stood behind her, hands on her shoulders, giving her a reassuring squeeze, ‘Not silly at all.’ Sybil reached back, and they held hands tight.

All through this Sam had been silent. She held the baby close, stroking her fingers over their cheeks. She hadn’t cried, or exclaimed. She and the infant regarded each other in silence. Sam slowly nodded, curling her body around the child. She took Sybil’s other hand, not caring about the wet hanky. 

‘Their name is going to be Sam,’ Sybil said, hiccuping. ‘No arguments.’ 

***  
The Vimes/Ramkin household was a twitter. Maids scurried around, peeking in at the baby on the rug. Young Sam held their feet in their hands, rolling around on their back letting loose bouts of laughter and flatulence in equal measure. Sybil lay beside them, tickling their round belly. 

Sam Vimes watched from through the window, the sun warm on her skin. Captain Carrot had arrived earlier in the day, carrying a hamper from their fellow watchmen. The whip-round had provided the new family with some knitted booties, blankets, rattles, and a case of fine cigars for Sam – one of which she was already savouring. The world had shifted for Sam. It felt good. She had never known that she’d wanted to be a parent so badly. And there, inside on a rug with the love of her life, was the other love of her life. That tiny little stinky thing who made messes beyond measure, and filled her heart so much she feared it’d burst. 

She took a long drag, watching the smoke swirl above her in a lazy haze. She smiled. Her home was full, her heart was full, her wife and child were safe and laughing together. It was almost perfect. 

A scent cut though the smell of smoke, and Sam noticed the lilac growing. She always forgot about it until she suddenly didn’t. She flicked the stub away, picking a sprig. And there is was the reality she had been avoiding.

Oh, how they rise up...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like my work, please consider giving me a follow on Tumblr at [Neon-Goblin-Art](https://neon-goblin-art.tumblr.com) I post fanart and updates there :D Thanks!

**Author's Note:**

> If you like my work, please consider giving me a follow on Tumblr at [Neon-Goblin-Art](https://neon-goblin-art.tumblr.com) I post fanart and updates there :D Thanks!


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